


No Labels

by skywaterblue



Category: West Wing
Genre: Bisexuality, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Swearing, lesbian subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywaterblue/pseuds/skywaterblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Self-analysis is for chumps." Lou finished, and picked up her martini.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Labels

**Author's Note:**

> For lauriestein at ww_pumpkins.

"I always thought he was gay."

This is the first thing that Helen will ever remember Lou saying to her distinctly. They've talked, of course, but about nothing that wasn't political, or campaign related. Lou didn't seem to concern herself much with the personal details, and so Helen knows almost nothing about her.

"Josh?" Helen clarified. It was hard to imagine Josh as gay. Weird, yes. Gay, no. Not when he was sweeping Donna across the dance floor like that. Of course, he did know all the steps. And he and Sam had kind of a weird... thing.

Lou nodded. "Of course, he did hit on me. Once. A long time ago."

"I never thought he was gay, just weird." Helen said, giving voice to thought. "I thought you were a lesbian when we first met." And she looked over her wine glass at Louise. It took a very bold straight woman to wear a tuxedo jacket and tennis shoes to a state dinner. "But, I've been informed otherwise."

"Why, because I fucked Otto?" Louise said, seeming surprised. "I'm a dyke, 100% butch, he was just there."

Helen coughed on her wine, luckily catching it in a linen napkin before it could ruin her gown. "Really?"

Lou shrugged. She leaned on the table, forearms pushing herself forward. "Okay, maybe not. Maybe bisexual. I hate labels, you know? I spend my entire life labeling things - the Wal-Mart mom and the Old New Dad, I could give George Lakoff a hard-on in a conference call. You quantify something enough and it's just as dehumanizing as if we had given them a number. Socialism bad, Capitalism good. Let's go mug an ad exec for ideas on how to squash the American spirit into check boxes and self-descriptors. You know what I mean? I've fucked women and men, I don't have a problem saying it, and that's as far as I want to go."

"Wow."

"Self-analysis is for chumps." Lou finished, and picked up her martini.

Helen was too afraid of choking again to pick up her glass, so she let her fingers still and enjoy the condensation. "I was experimental. In college. It turned Matt on."

"You've been drinking a lot. And your boobs are hanging out of that dress, ma'am." Lou retorted.

Helen laughed, "This is a young and vital White House."

Louise laughed too, "No, I was just thinking they looked great - for someone who breastfed two kids."

It wasn't the wine that made Helen flush. "My Chief of Staff looks occupied for the night."

"I know, I'm doing her job - keeping you out of trouble." Lou swept her head over her shoulder, hair spilling down the open button of her starched shirt to catch another glimpse of Josh and Donna. "I should get you upstairs."

Helen drained the last of her wine. "Funny, that was going to be my line." She stood up on wobbly heels and said, "I don't know anything about you, Lou."

"I'm from Jersey."

"Ah. Now, that, I could have guessed."


End file.
